Lindsey Beth Evans is the daughter of two of my dearest friends in life, Kirk and Nancy Evans. A kindergarten, first and now second-grade teacher, Lindsey has pursued both education and her job with a passion not easy to predict when she was a little girl, for as the typical fun-loving little girl, she was given credit mainly for being cute. I have never been a boy growing up in this generation’s world, let alone a girl; but I can imagine the pressure to choose between appearance and learning, surface and soul, immediate pleasure and delayed gratification. Lindsey seems to see these as false choices, figuring out how to be both polished and deep, bubbly and grounded, attractive and career-focused, accepting of adult advice and her own person.
This summer, for the fourth time in 16 years, Lindsey will travel to Brazil on a mission trip, once again with her grandfather (her mother’s father). On these trips she trades in her dresses and sandals for jeans, t-shirts, ball caps, work shoes and work tools to help build churches, repair homes and perform other similar tasks. She has gone to Brazil for nearly half her life, and taken similar trips to Cambodia (twice) as well as to Sierra Leone; and performed similar work here in the United States. When asked, many of the young people I know who do service, will say they do it mostly to build their resume. Resume builders do not sustain their effort this long. Something else motivates Lindsey and I suspect it is the same thing that causes her grandfather and brother to take these sorts of trips. They have become enthralled with the prospect of helping other people and have learned, as Martin Luther King said, if you want to be great, you only need a heart full of grace and a soul generated by love. I do not personally know anyone as young as she, who has devoted more time and energy to such causes; and better embodies the word: servant.
When you are around Lindsey’s father you know he could start singing any minute. With Lindsey it is not only a song, but a dance routine, she suppresses until the setting permits. If full-on dancing is not appropriate, she will at least lightly clap her hands, scoot her feet, or weave or bob in time to music playing in her head. I have seldom seen her listening to music through earphones, perhaps because it would have to compete with her natural song. When I am around her I find myself wanting to express myself the same way, until I remember I am a middle-aged man with no sense of rhythm. After she influenced a bunch of us older people out on the dance floor at her brother’s wedding in 2006, and I confessed to having loved the dancing once I got going, she later tried to teach me step routines; but soon gave up after seeing how slowly I was picking it up.
Lindsey’s fashion sense and style instincts are impeccable, something she no doubt gets from her mother, although Lindsey’s sensibilities run less to arts and crafts than to personal expression. The precision of her thinking and speaking match the way she glides and strolls, no doubt due to awareness of the impact she has on others; giving her a type of interpersonal power she could, but does not, exploit.
I have seen video of Lindsey teaching and what I recall are her capacity to attend to the demands of each separate child and the rhythm with which she orchestrates classroom activities. I had precious few teachers with her combination of poise and enthusiasm, but one of the few I did have: Miss Rhodes, I remember fondly to this day. Those Louisville kids are fortunate to have Miss Evans. The impression she makes on many of them will no doubt, be indelible.
